


Like Before

by Zasa



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Power Bottom Dutch, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zasa/pseuds/Zasa
Summary: Dutch is desperate for relief, and Arthur is desperate to help.Takes place at the beginning of Chapter 1





	Like Before

"Arthur and I will scout ahead."

Arthur lifted his head, squinting against the onslaught of snowflakes between him and Dutch despite there only being a few inches of space. Hosea, seated on the other side of Dutch, pulled the wagon to a slow halt, the frown he'd had since they started the journey from Blackwater as prominent as ever. 

"You've already got John and Micah out there," Hosea said. "Splitting up even more..."

Dutch was already climbing off the front of the wagon. "Lost your trust in me, old friend?" 

"Dutch, I don't have a horse, remember?" Arthur hunkered deeper in his coat. Even then thought of facing the already brutal wind at a faster pace had him shivering all over again. Still, he jumped to the ground as Dutch whistled for the Count, boots vanishing in the snow.

"You can ride with me."

Arthur glanced at Hosea, but whatever argument he could see in the old man's expression stayed buried for now. Hosea slapped the reins and the wagon croaked forward, the rest of the wagons, the rest of their dwindled gang, following in its tracks. 

"Come on, Arthur." Dutch slid into the Count's saddle, and Arthur had no choice but to do as told, jumping onto the Horse's flank and holding to Dutch's waist as he spurred them into a sprint. 

The wind took his breath away. He titled his hand farther down his forehead and leaned into Dutch's body heat once they passed the caravan and descended down the slope of a hill. He felt Dutch's slight shiver and leaned in deeper, hating himself for it, hating the heat he felt leeching into his cheeks despite the lack of it in the air. 

"We'll go a few miles. See what we can find." Dutch had to nearly scream it for Arthur to hear. "We can't keep heading toward nothing. Davey can't last that long."

Arthur grunted in agreement. More than Davey was at risk for hypothermia at this rate. Their bodies were used to the dry heat of the desert. This...this was torture in comparison.

"Dutch. What happened on that boat?"

"We were missing you. That's what happened."

Arthur doubted he could have made any difference from the sound of things, but there was something sincere in Dutch's voice. Something that warmed him further. He didn't know if it meant anything deeper, but Arthur still allowed himself a brief moment to rest his face in the nape of Dutch's neck. It made Dutch's shivering stop. 

A few miles turned into several. When nothing appeared ahead of them, they began turning circles, exploring outward, Arthur watching the left and right as Dutch kept his eyes ahead. Arthur could feel Dutch's heart racing. 

"We can go back and try starting a fire again," Arthur said. "If we keep an eye out, there has to be some dry wood somewhere."

Dutch said nothing, too lost in thought, Arthur figured, in desperation, in the realization that he may have dragged the gang too deep into trouble. Because that's all Arthur could think about: if they could actually get out of this alive.

Suddenly the Count leapt ahead, Dutch digging his heels into his sides, and Arthur lifted his hat to see an array of gray shadows dotting the horizon. 

"Are those...?"

"Buildings," Dutch answered. "A whole town looks like."

"Think they'll recognize us?"

"This far North? I wouldn't be taking us there if I thought so."

Arthur let his grip on Dutch's waist loosen, letting cold hair rush between the new gap in their bodies. It was nice while it lasted. Like old times. Like times when he felt happier to be alive.

The first building they saw clearly was abandoned, one of its walls collapsed, it's roof sunk nearly to the ground beneath the weight of snow. 

The next looked worse. 

There were no lights. There was no noise. Finally they came to a set of intact building and Dutch told Arthur to scope one out while he went to the other. When Arthur knocked, the door cracked opened on its own. 

It was a two bedroom house. Obviously abandoned. Arthur checked the rooms, the pantry, but there was no sign of another soul. It felt, for a terrifying moment, that he was the only one left in the world. 

Then the door creaked open and Dutch's heavy steps filled the front room. Arthur reemerged with a shrug. "No one here."

Dutch drew back a blanket by the fireplace, uncovering a pile of firewood. He tossed a few logs inside, holding a hand out for a match he knew Arthur would have. His smoking habit was almost constant these days. 

"Next door was a school," Dutch said. "Hasn't been used in years by the looks of it. There's not much for us, but there's a fireplace there too, and any kind of roof will do us all some good, at least until this storm blows over." He stood, watching the fire eat quickly through the old logs. He removed his gloves to hold his tremblimg bare hands near the flame. "Got a fire going in there too. Hopefully it will be warm enough when we get the others here."

Arthur nodded, heading toward the door. "If the Count will let me, I'll go get the others."

"Wait." Dutch spun. 

Arthur stopped, pulling the door shut again, keeping as much heat in as he could. Dutch clenched his hands into fists before relaxing them, eyes locked onto Arthur's. 

It looked like...no. That time had passed. Dutch made it so. For good reason. He had Molly. Whatever anxiety and hope Arthur felt dwindled as he remembered Dutch breaking it off. He had pretended it didn't hurt. 

"I need you to do something for me." Dutch said, stepping closer. 

"Sure. What is it?"

Dutch tugged off his hat and began unbuttoning his coat. "Take your clothes off. Now."

Arthur's knees dipped. He grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter for support. What kind of warped dream was this? His family dying in the cold and Dutch finally breaking down that wall he rose between them. 

"Dutch?"

"I said now."

Oh God. 

Dutch was shrugging off his coat and removing his gun belt, eyes hard, focused only on Arthur who remained frozen and fully clothed.

Clothed until Dutch was down to his union suit, the material tented at his crotch. Then Arthur slung off his coat and gloves, opening his shirt and shivering against the cold, feeling himself warm as Dutch closed the space between them.

Dutch's mouth was on his in an instant, shockingly warm and uncharacteristically desperate, crashing with Arthur's, working open until his tongue was deep in Arthur's mouth. 

Arthur sank against the counter, ashamed how quickly his family drifted from his mind. Ashamed how good it felt. How wrong. 

Dutch pulled away with a gasp, eyes going to Arthur's remaining clothes, fingers resting on the buttons of Arthur's pants. "May I?"

That was new. 

Arthur swallowed hard, only able to nod, afraid any kind of noise would break whatever spell had started this. Dutch sat Arthur's gunbelt on the floor, undoing his pants and dipping his hand inside before they were off, humming at the stiffness that met him through the remaining fabric.

"My big boy," Dutch whispered, making Arthur's eyes roll to the back of his head. 

What did he do to deserve this? What the hell was going on?

Dutch removed his hand, kneeling to pry Arthur's wet boots off one at a time before wrenching his pants to his knees and pressing a soft kiss to the crotch of his union suit. That was new too. Arthur gasped, struggling to keep his hips from bucking forward. He had of course heard of people using their mouths, but never thought he'd be on the receiving end. Especially not from Dutch. But then Dutch stood before his mouth met Arthur's skin, leaving only a warm wet spot on his union suit. 

"You like this, don't you? Me undressing you?" He was sliding his hands into Arthur's shirt and peeling it from his shoulders. 

Dutch had never touched him like this. It had always been a quick matter, achieved rarely within camp and only a few times outside of it. It was to be in and out and done before anyone noticed their absence. But now Dutch, nearly a year after breaking it off, was going slow. Caressing. Exploring. As if he was not just doing this for the relief, but because he enjoyed it. Enjoyed Arthur. 

At the ridiculousness of that thought, Arthur lost his nerve. "W-what are we doing?" he croaked, shivering against Dutch's cold fingers trailing up his spine. 

Dutch frowned, as if it should be obvious, as if Arthur was being ungrateful for even questioning it. But he was simply afraid - afraid that someone would catch them, or worse, that Dutch, once he got off, would go back to ignoring him. 

Dutch pulled his hands away to open his own union suit and slip it to the floor, leaving Arthur trapped inside his, straining and sick with worry that the gang was freezing to death at the very moment that he was warmed by the fire and the sight of Dutch before him. 

"Get your cock out," Dutch said, no longer touching, no longer teasing. The desire-glazed look in his eyes was gone. It was back to normal. 

Dutch leaned over the counter and spread himself, waiting.

Arthur gawked. Fumbled himself out of his union suit, achingly hard. It managed to hurt worse as he let his eyes trail over Dutch's backside. The sharp lines of muscles. The scars on his back. The hole he was about to ravage. He stroked himself out of habit, moaning as he leaned forward to kiss Dutch's spine. Dutch stiffened at that. It was also new. Biting and clawing and fucking was just what they used to do. This, like Dutch had been, was sensual. 

But the moment had passed as soon as Arthur had spoke, and Dutch glared over his shoulder. "You just gonna stand there?"

"Do you have--?"

"Just spit on me."

Arthur's stomach dropped with both arousal and dread. He might hurt Dutch. It had been so long, and Dutch always praised Arthur for his monstrous size. But Dutch was still glaring at him, daring him to refuse, so Arthur bent forward and spat on Dutch's hole, cock twitching as Dutch pressed his forehead to the counter, giving Arthur total control. The sight. The sensation of his fingers sliding into Dutch. Dutch's shuddering breath. It was all too much already. 

"Hurry Arthur."

He spat in his free hand and wetted his cock as well as he could, pulling his fingers out. Dutch was nowhere near stretched enough, but this was going to be over before it started if he didn't do as told. 

He let the tip of his cock glide down Dutch's crack, holding his breath as Dutch held his, finally sinking into Dutch's hole. Dutch shifted and Arthur knew from that and the impossible squeeze on the tip of his dick that he needed to give him a minute to adjust. But Dutch was adamant. 

"Hurry!" He snapped, voice breaking. 

"Dutch, there has to be something we can use. Here or in your saddle bags. Let me--"

"Arthur. Fuck me. Right now."

Arthur spat on his shaft and leaned into Dutch, letting his weight sink him, letting his mouth hang and his breathing tremble. Halfway in, Dutch gasped like he'd been shot.

Arthur knew better than to ask if he was okay, if he needed a break. Sometimes Dutch would slow him down. Sometimes he wanted it rough. It was obvious what he wanted this time. 

Arthur snapped his hips forward, nerves sparking as Dutch groaned in pain or pleasure or both. He did it again, loving how it knocked the breath out of Dutch's lungs, doing it again and again until he was fully inside, groaning at the tight fit. 

Arthur canted his hips backwards, the slide out slower than usual, and thrust back in, face burning as Dutch screamed before he could cover his mouth.

His second pull came smoother, so Arthur grabbed Dutch's hips and began slamming in and out of him, quickening in pace until the slap of skin on skin was the loudest thing in the room. 

"Oh fuck," Dutch gasped, his deep voice making Arthur's balls tighten. "Harder. Harder Arthur. I need you to punish me."

Arthur growled, thrusting in and out as fast and deep as he could go, feeling the counter shaking, hearing the floor creak, hearing Dutch let himself scream out with every single thrust back inside until his voice was wobbling as if stricken with tears. Arthur grabbed Dutch's arms and yanked them behind his back, holding his wrists together, tight enough to break.

"Arthur! Please don't fucking stop. Don't--ah!"

But already Arthur was ready to explode. His balls were drawn and his stomach was flexed hard enough to ache. He wanted--needed to cum. Needed it more than he needed air. His thrusting went sloppy, slower. His nails dug into Dutch's wrists. 

"Not yet, Arthur," Dutch moaned out.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sight, trying to ignore the sounds. Trying and failing to mentally dull the sensation of his dick ramming in and out of Dutch's tight hole.

"Dutch."

"Don't you fucking dare," Dutch snarled.

"I'm--I can't--"

"Fuck! Just like that Arthur. Just like that."

"I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet!"

Dutch's body tightened around him, his hips pushing back every time Arthur slammed forward.

"Goddamnit. I'm so close," Dutch growled. "Keep going, for the love of God or I'll slit your fucking--"

Dutch went suddenly silent. Still. Arthur unmercifully pounded into him, knocking his head into the wall, feeling his muscles start fluttering around his cock. And then Dutch was screaming with his release, voice hoarse, body spasming, cum shooting across the counter and smearing with Arthur's next thrust. 

Arthur couldn't take it. He needed to pull out. He was going to--

"Okay, Arthur. Cum."

Inside?

The amazement was brief, his pleasure hitting it's peak, his cock exploding, spilling, filling, Dutch's walls still trembling. Arthur lost his breath and found it within a second, ending up screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Dutch!"

This legs tried to give so he leaned on top of Dutch and let small thrusts drag every last bit of cum out of him, the sensation sharp enough to make his ears ring and his vision go white.

He stilled, shut his eyes, releasing Dutch's wrists to let the man pull his pinned arms out from between them. Dutch caught his breath while Arthur struggled to catch his. He felt wrung dry and exhausted, but so warm against Dutch. So relieved. It was like it used to be before Dutch decided he was going to be with Molly in the ways Arthur had always secretly wanted. Mutually and out in the open. 

Arthur straightened before Dutch could ask him to get off, unsure if he could take the man's nonchalance at a time like this. It was different when it was a weekly occurrence, but after months of longing...

He slipped out, enjoying the last gasp Dutch had to offer, and searched until he found an old dish towel, handing it first to to Dutch who nodded a thank you and began wiping his stomach clean. Arthur found another for himself, but found most of his mess leaking onto Dutch's thighs. The sight managed to make him twitch with interest.

Dutch soiled his dish towel and still had a mess between his legs, more leaking out everytime he attempted to wipe himself clean. Arthur understood now why Dutch didn't usually let him cum inside. He handed him his towel and began slipping on his clothes. 

Arthur broke the silence once he was fully dressed and ready to face the cold. "I'll go get the others." 

Dutch looked up from his thighs. "Arthur, wait."

This again. What else was left to do except agree it was a one time thing. A mistake. Dutch was in a relationship and he wanted to do his best to make it work.

But Dutch said, "I'm sorry if I pressured you."

"You...?"

"I know I said I wasn't going to call on you anymore, but... well, obviously I was desperate. It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"Wh--Dutch, I don't want you to be sorry. I wanted this. Wanted this since you cut me off."

Dutch frowned. "Cut you off? I thought...I thought I was making you."

"Making me make love to you?" Arthur winced as he said it. They'd never used that term before. It was too deep. Too serious. What they had had been a long-standing fling, and nothing more. A way to get off without strings attached. It was that way because Dutch had made it that way. 

"Well, yeah." Dutch titled his head. "Wasn't I?"

"Just because you came to me first didn't mean I wasn't willing."

"Obviously you were willing, but you always seemed detached, like you didn't want to be there, or like you were pretending I was someone else. Like how you were just a minute ago when I was trying to...you know, make it something more."

Arthur grabbed his forehead. "Jesus. No. Dutch, are you kidding me? I was always trying to play it cool because I thought you weren't into it! Not into it being me, anyway."

Dutch let out a wary laugh, as if assuming Arthur was playing a joke on him. "Really?"

Arthur stepped toward him, catching one of Dutch's hands in his own, tugging him into a kiss. Dutch let Arthur lead it, making it soft and slow and brimming with something Arthur felt too terrified to acknowledge. Something like love he had never felt, not with anyone.

Arthur pulled back, letting himself glance down Dutch's naked body, openly enjoying it while Dutch failed to hide his grin. "I want this. Never stopped wanting this."

"I'm sorry. I misread everything."

"So did I."

Dutch wrapped a hand around the back of Arthur's neck and pulled him into a hug. "I never stopped needing you."

Arthur melted into the embrace, hiding his face in Dutch's neck to kiss him there. "Can we start over?"

Dutch pulled back with a sigh, glancing around the room. "I'll get this place ready for the others. You go fetch them." A small smile quickly replaced the tired worry. "I'll make sure you have your own room and meet you later tonight."

Arthur couldn't stop the grin breaking across his face. He kissed Dutch one last time before putting on his hat and opening the door. 

"Be safe and come back to me, Arthur. I've been missing you for too long already."


End file.
